


Flattery Gets You Everywhere

by Entity_Sylvir



Series: Tribal Relations [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Bit of family-ness, Denying sex, Knotting, Less politics than last time, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Possessive!Will, Somewhat more politics as things go on, Topping from the Bottom, Vague historical-esque setting, Will has a cool dad, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-21 16:36:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1557017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entity_Sylvir/pseuds/Entity_Sylvir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal's continuing, <i>ahem</i>, interactions. In which some diplomatic affairs occur, and one certain omega knows exactly how to get what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to [Compliments of the Chief](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1471099) since people seemed to want it, so you'd probably like to read that first if you haven't.
> 
> Eep I wrote a series. Gotta say, I've been referring it all as the 'tent story' myself XD

The new tent they were shown into was small, plain and entirely empty but for the pile of pale furs in the centre. Its single function was all too clear, not that Hannibal had any intention of using it such, his mind still whirring as it had been during all the hectic hours. Here, he and his small party were on foreign territory and outnumbered, the rush of the eastern tribe's preparations too fast to escape. But if he managed to satisfy them enough to get away, back to the security of distance and political posturing, then perhaps there was a chance he could cite annulment for non-consummation.  
  
Arzah had been delighted that Hannibal had already 'taken a liking to' his son, and called a celebration with the unspoken threats and ultimatums lingering just from the forefront on the air. In the haze of revelry and congratulations, which had of course also detained his guards, Hannibal had barely gotten a word in edgeways as the other chief announced that they ought to perform a simple bonding ceremony that very night and leave their grand nuptials to until the couple returned to the west. And then he'd been repeating the words of unfamiliar promises at prompt and being pushed by winking men and women towards his wedding night with no room for argument.  
  
"You look a little tense."  
  
The silky voice in his ear came from behind as arms wrapped around his shoulders. Hannibal made no movement in reaction.  
  
"If you think that I am going to touch you after—"  
  
"Mmm, because you were protesting so very much last night," Will cut in, voice dropping low as he pressed himself fully against Hannibal's back. "And," he continued, "you can stop worrying, you know."  
  
"Worrying about what?"  
  
"Everything." He dropped his chin to rest on Hannibal's shoulder. "Your lands, your people, your plans. I've watched as you've brought wealth and security to your tribe. You're a very good chief, I know." He took a deep breath, nosing around the side of Hannibal's neck. "A very good leader too, and," his voice dropped lower, "a very fine man indeed."  
  
Hannibal couldn't help his slight swell of pride as firm hands moved to grip around his biceps before running up the muscles of his chest, Will stepping around so that they were standing face to face. The traditional robes fit snugly around his body and Hannibal knew that, like his own, they had nothing but bare skin underneath. They was close enough that Hannibal could smell just how willing the omega was.  
  
"There's such an intensity in you, isn't there?" Will continued softly, and Hannibal was being turned and slowly backed towards the furs. "Such strength, and such—" he flashed a look from under his lashes, hot and heavy as he breathed out, "such _potency_ I've seen."  
  
The word was positively dripping with suggestiveness, and Hannibal felt his pulse begin to involuntarily increase. He was being pushed at to sit down, then to lie back, and he complied without thinking. Something warm was beginning to spread in him at the evidence of Will's attention, and appreciation.  
  
"You've already shown me what you can do," came the words whispered against his own lips. "Why don't you just relax, now, and let me show you instead?"  
  
And then Will was kissing him, and now that the reluctant virgin act had been dropped it was all heat and demand. Hannibal felt the cool air on his legs as Will reached down to lift the hem of his robe, pulling it up past his waist. The scent of the omega's arousal was pure invitation, familiar now and full of luscious promise. Will pulled away just after Hannibal finally moved to kiss back, giving a little smirk before he scooted down to take the alpha in his mouth.  
  
It was far from the first time Hannibal had experienced this particular act, but he found himself sighing deeply as his eyes drifted shut. Will was obviously very skilled, and Hannibal was somewhat torn between gratitude and jealousy towards all the others that must have been practised on. He alternated between applying a firm suction to the head and massaging around the crown with his tongue, and letting it slide all the way down his throat to make Hannibal's breath hitch. The tightness was already building in Hannibal's lower belly when a few fingers slipped down towards the growing protrusions at the base of his shaft, pressing and stroking until he was fighting for control and grasping at Will's shoulders to signal that it was soon going to be too much.  
  
But Will redoubled his efforts instead of stopping, and it only took a little more coaxing before Hannibal came with a long groan. Will swallowed around him, then raised up to clean up the few drops which had escaped. But even when those were gone, he didn't pull back.  
  
"Will—" Hannibal began questioningly, but cut off in a shout as the omega wrapped his lips around the side of Hannibal's knot, lapping insistently. "No," he gasped, and made a strangled sound when Will gently scraped his teeth along the swollen flesh. It wasn't normally noticeable during a tie, but an alpha's knot became extremely sensitive immediately after orgasm. And this was too much, far too much.  
  
Usually, an alpha deflated quickly if they came outside of an omega's body, but Will drew it out for Hannibal by periodically wrapping both hands around his knot and squeezing down hard, giving him the pressure he was craving and making him claw at the furs beneath them. Hannibal couldn't help the desperate-sounding noises that were falling from his lips as Will continued to work him, rubbing back and forth with his tongue and teeth and placing long sucking kisses around the firm swellings.  
  
It seemed an endless blaze of torturous pleasure before Will finally let up. And it wasn't until Hannibal focused his eyes down over the omega who was looking very close to smug that he realised that while his knot had eventually subsided, the teasing had somehow managed to keep him from losing his erection. "No," he rasped again as Will raised the hem of his own robe and moved to straddle him. "No, _wait—_ "  
  
But Will ignored the protests, positioning quickly and sliding himself on. "Mmm, that's it," he moaned as he began to ride Hannibal steadily, humming in contentment, mindless of the fingers that found his bare arms and raked long red marks on his skin.  
  
He took his time, tossing his head back and sighing as he unhurriedly enjoyed himself. Hannibal was breathing in harsh gasps now, still too sensitive, overstimulation keeping him dancing on that line between pain and ecstacy. The scent in the small tent was a mixture of cooling euphoria and fresh excitement, thick and heady, and there was something hedonistically sensual in the slide of their still fully worn robes again their skin. Hannibal had never had a lover quite use his body like this before, simply _taking_ , and it was all too intense, excruciating, incredible.  
  
When Will finally came it was with a loud cry as his back snapped taut for several long seconds, then a series of low throaty groans while he ground his hips down to ride out each cresting wave. The rapid clenching of his inner muscles proved too much for Hannibal who couldn't hold back his growled scream as he was pushed into climax for the second time in not long enough, the power of it burning through his whole body and exploding in bright sparks as he swelled once again to tie them together. The join of their bodies seemed to pulse in sync with their shared shudders.  
  
Eventually, Will shifted as they both fell still, leaning down to press their lips together in a brief and gentle kiss. "Like I said," he breathed, voice hoarse, "you should really stop worrying." He arched his back a little more to rest his head on the alpha's chest, ear over his racing heart. "I think we'll be having a very happy marriage."  
  
And Hannibal couldn't quite catch enough breath to reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, how the tables turn. What can I say, Will knows what he's doing.
> 
> I have ideas for some 'snapshots' of their married life, mostly standalone with not much of a plot between them. I may make this into a multichapter, if anyone wants to read more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support, everyone. You wanted more, so I guess this has become a multichapter. I have 5 planned so far. Tags will be added, but nothing too different.

"I do quite like this," Will said for the third time as he sat down on his new bed, eyes roaming the interior of the cosy dwelling. Hannibal gave a non-committal grunt, heading straight to the centre table and filling a mug from the tall jug of honey-wine that had been left for them. It was the kind that usually had to be savoured—only the best for the chief after all—but he allowed himself to drink just a little faster than usual on account of the week he'd had. And not to mention the half-day he'd just spent with Will on the saddle before him, pressed all along his front and rhythmically rocking back into his crotch, helping not at all with his current levels of frustration.  
  
Light footsteps sounded behind him as the omega stood and walked over to pour a mug for himself, making a soft contented sound when he took his first sip.  
  
"Mmm, this is good."  
  
Hannibal set his mug down, already half-empty. "Do you not make wine in your tribe?"  
  
"We do, but we make it from fruit. The colour is very different, and it's not nearly so rich." Will took another slow drink and inhaled deeply. "This is positively decadent," he said, voice dropping low with the last words in a way that Hannibal tried very hard to not let affect him.  
  
It was six days after the wedding that Will's father had finally allowed them to leave, days that had passed with Hannibal trying to keep as much to himself as he could, resulting mainly in an awful lot of time spent in bed. The winks and raised eyebrows he'd received whenever he did deign to venture out of their consummation tent would have been insultingly indecent, if it weren't for the fact that they were really rather justified. Thin cloth walls did, unfortunately, very little to block any sound.  
  
"Well if you enjoy it," Hannibal replied lightly, ignoring the glance Will was flashing him and walking over to sit heavily down on his bed, "there will be plenty more at the feast tomorrow."  
  
They'd arrived too late that night for any proper reception, but a messenger had been sent out no doubt the moment Will had emerged from Hannibal's tent that first morning reeking of recent rutting. The small party that was still awake to greet them had offered their warm, albeit somewhat surprised, congratulations to the newly mated couple, and happily announced that they'd spent the whole week preparing their chief's grand mating ceremony. Hannibal still wasn't entirely sure how his life had ended up here.  
  
"Then I'd better start pacing myself, won't I?" Will took another sip then set the mug down, walking over to curiously examine the thatched walls a bit more closely. Hannibal's people didn't live in tents, but instead in small huts that could be easily taken down and reassembled with each movement. They didn't sleep on pallets either, but on stuffed mattresses raised over wooden frames to avoid the dew that gathered on the grass of the open floor. "So, are you going to be dressing me up?" he asked, something mischievous dancing over his lips as he turned back towards the alpha.  
  
Hannibal shot him a look that attempted to be disinterested before leaning over to pull off his riding boots, standing again afterwards to strip out of his sand-dusted clothes. "Yes. There will be ceremonial garb ready for you in the morning, though it's not so different from the normal wear you'll be given." His tribe favoured short tunics and breeches instead of loose robes, a testament to their more strenuous physical activities. Alpha, betas, and omegas were all dressed similarly.  
  
He was pulling off his shirt when he felt Will's hands slide around his chest. "Big day tomorrow, then?" was whispered into his ear as the omega pressed up against him.  
  
"Indeed," Hannibal replied flatly as the coarse fabric hit the grass. "Perhaps we should get some sleep?"  
  
Will chuckled and leaned in to kiss him, Hannibal allowing their lips side softly together for a few moments before he gave in and pulled them more firmly together. He reached down to slide his fingers under the waistband of the leggings Will had donned for riding, dragging them down past those slim thighs that he'd already become so well acquainted with. Will sighed into Hannibal's open mouth as he was turned and urged sideways until he hit the edge of the bedframe, letting out a soft 'oh' followed by a cheekily-pleased little laugh when he toppled back onto the mattress.  
  
Hannibal pulled the surely-unnecessarily tight leggings all the way off and let them fall as carelessly as his own clothes before joining his mate on the bed, tugging at the hem of Will's shift to be rid of that too. Then they were kissing again, tongues tangling messily together as they both panted in the lust-heavy air, one of Hannibal's hands finding a well-toned calf and following the shapely leg upwards to slip in two fingers that curled and twisted to find the sensitive spots. Will bit his lip, arching up to push back against Hannibal's hand.  
  
"Mmm, you're good at that."  
  
"Medic's touch," Hannibal replied, voice slightly shaky and betraying a hint of a smile.  
  
Will sighed softly, shifting his hips to gently ride those probing fingertips. Hannibal let it go on, drinking in the intoxicating scent of the fresh slick that was soaking his hand, until Will began to clutch more roughly at his back. He'd learnt to read the omega's reactions enough by now to know impatience when he saw it, and withdrew his fingers again to a low sound from Will's throat.  
  
Will's legs were spread wide, knees bent upwards and bracketing Hannibal as he sat back, braced on a single arm which shook just a little as he guided himself into the delicious grip of his mate's body. Hannibal had found during the copious amount of exploration they'd done that in the times it was up to him at least, when he wasn't just pushed down and ridden like a stallion, he preferred taking Will on his back. He took the opportunity now to nip along the pale line of Will's throat, giving himself a bare moment to collect his control before beginning to move.  
  
The first creak of wood surprised a small sound of amusement from Will. "Oh, I think I like that," he breathed, raising his hands to clutch around Hannibal's sides, lips pulling back into a pseudo-scandalised grin before it was roughly kissed away. Hannibal responded with a small growl against Will's mouth as he increased his pace to make the bedframe rock rhythmically with their motions, rolling his hips sharply and steadily in the way that he'd found drew the keenest sounds of appreciation.  
  
Will was never shy about vocalising his enjoyment, and there was something frightfully additive about the soft gasps and sighs that fell from his lips as he lost himself in pleasure. Hannibal felt fingernails curl into the meat of his shoulders then drag down to the small of his back, encouraging him faster. "Come on," Will murmured breathlessly, "I'm not one of your betas you have to be careful with."  
  
Hannibal stilled for a moment, eyes narrowing at the taunt. It had admittedly been a blow to his pride that his inexperience in this exact field had been picked up on, though he probably shouldn't have expected any less given how perceptive he had come to notice Will was. In the recent days he'd spent diligently discovering the unfamiliar body, Will had been gradually teaching him how to please an omega. It was usually subtle, and generally appreciated, but now he was getting that little smirk on his lips that made Hannibal growl again, louder, because suddenly it wasn't enough.  
  
In one motion he pulled out and flipped Will onto his belly with a rough arm around his waist, revelling in the flash of surprise across his face. He lifted Will's hips to bring him up on his knees before driving in again to a strangled cry that broke off in a series of hitching moans. Hannibal joined them with his own, letting his head fall back, mounting his mate without restraint.  
  
Will didn't talk any more, lips parted and one hand fisted in the mattress wrap. Hannibal leant forward on one arm as Will's other hand moved back to grab blindly for his. A moment of puzzlement flashed through his mind as his fingers were guided around the omega's own erection for the first time, but he compiled and tightened his grip. Will gave a throaty growl of approval as he was stroked as Hannibal would himself.  
  
Hannibal could recognise very well by now the way Will shook and tensed as he neared his peak, but this time when it began it was just a little different. He vaguely noted something more desperate in the cries that followed each snap of his hips, more ardent in the small involuntary jerks of the body before him. But there was barely a chance to ponder in the dizzying haze of swirling pheromones and building ecstasy.  
  
Will came with a scream that Hannibal was close to mirroring because dear gods when he was as close as he was then, nothing felt as good as grip of his mate's climax. He was taken unprepared this time by the intensity of Will's orgasm that seemed to last for an age, and by the unexpected wetness he felt on his hand at his upstroke. It only took a few more moments before he was tipped over the edge himself with almost a roar.  
  
When the thundering in his ears finally died down, Hannibal gently eased the two of them onto their sides, glancing curiously at the dark patch of moisture underneath where Will had knelt. The omega lay slumped limply as he recovered, sighing contently and pressing back into Hannibal's embrace. "Mmm, not many people have been able to make me come like that before," he murmured softly, voice noticeably hoarse from overuse.  
  
Hannibal allowed himself a small smile, body still strumming with both their aftershocks. He pressed languid kisses to the back of Will's neck they lay curled in the afterglow and let their breathing slowly return to even. There was such a peace to these moments, soaking in the cooling air of exertion, to contrast sublimely with the fervour of their lovemaking.  
  
It was with reluctance that he pulled away when they were able to separate, standing on slightly shaky legs and making his way over to fetch the small cloth that was laid out on the table. Will was already half asleep when he returned, and Hannibal couldn't help a small flare of smugness at having finally tired his mate out. He wiped off the drying spots of clear fluid that dotted Will's stomach then dropped the cloth along with their discarded clothing, taking a few steps away to extinguish the hanging lamp before moving to lie back down on the mattress and picking up the folded blanket from the floor at the foot of the bed to spread over them. Will shifted lazily to curl up against him, and the two slipped off together into the tender caress of sleep.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Hannibal was roused the next morning by a stream of sunlight hitting his face as his door was eased open. Will was a warm weight beside him, tucked up along his side, face pressed into the curve of his shoulder. He cracked open his eyes to see a young alpha he recognised vaguely in his doorway with a hint of red in his cheeks as he shifted awkwardly on his feet.  
  
"Um, good morning? I've come to tell the new chief-mate that the dressing hut has been set up and is ready for him now?" he delivered like a question, gaze darting everywhere that wasn't the bed. Hannibal could imagine why, given that the way he and Will were tangled together left very little to the imagination. "Though, I guess I can, uh, come back later?"  
  
Will stirred, sleepily blinking his eyes open to regard the messenger. He yawned after a moment and rubbed a hand over his face before breaking into a smile. "No, I'd better not keep them waiting," he replied a little raspily, then promptly turned away from Hannibal's chest and sat up to swing his legs over the other side of the bed.  
  
Darting eyes snapped on Will and widened as he slipped out from under the covers and stood, utterly unperturbed at his state of complete undress. "I must thank you very much for how accommodating you're being for me," he said pleasantly as he strolled over to the table and the wine still left out from the previous night. "Oh, and your wine is lovely too." He gave a playful grin and picked up his mug to take a sizable sip, a look of hedonistic indulgence slipping over his face before his gaze fell back on their visitor and he continued, "Would you like a cup?"  
  
The young alpha's cheeks were flushed scarlet now, mouth opening and closing several times as he tried, and failed, to keep his eyes off Will's body. "Um," he squeaked out eventually, "no, that's okay. I think I'll just, uh, wait for you outside?" He shot a look at Hannibal as he began backing out the door, expression suddenly turning to terror as he realised that ogling his chief's mate in front of him probably wasn't the greatest idea. He missed the opening at first and stumbled into the side of the wall in his haste, finally almost falling out the door and hastily shutting it in a scurry of skittish feet.  
  
After a beat, Will turned with utter innocence spread across his face to look back over at Hannibal, who felt nearly too out of depth himself to formulate a reaction. What he could at least acknowledge was that, if Will had been hoping to make a positive introduction of himself, he certainly achieved that much.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Later that day the central clearing of the encampment was full of revelling men and women, the air ringing with cheers. Hannibal stood in the customary fighting grab that symbolised an alpha's new responsibility for his omega, and couldn't help but be taken in by the mood. It wasn't really a mating since that was already done, just an affirmation and a good reason to feast and celebrate. Being among his own tribe this time seemed to strike something deeper than before, but something subtly and without distinct form.  
  
Then the crowd parted and his omega stepped out, face bright with his open smile as he made his way forward. He was dressed in the garb of Hannibal's people, tight white tunic hugging his narrow waist and flat stomach to contrast against the black trousers sitting loosely on his hips. He was beautiful.  
  
And all Hannibal could think in that moment was that Will looked so very good beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey would you look at that, we've made it out of a tent. And I think I finally got all sex scenes out of my system, these two are actually going to get around to doing things other than banging soon, I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, next chapter after a holiday-caused delay. I actually started writing this on my phone in a science museum in Paris. Apparently the story of the universe's creation is inspiring ...somehow.

Hannibal was reading over the latest messages from his exploration patrols when he heard the slight crunch of the opening door, followed by the soft gait that had become a regular backdrop in his hut these past days. He didn't react to the entry, eyes not leaving the scroll in his hand, until said hand was abruptly knocked aside by a certain omega flopping carelessly onto his lap. The chief sighed softly, finally raising his eyes.

"I'm busy."

Will smiled serenely. "I'm horny."

Hannibal blinked at his mate's candidness, then blinked again before gathering the words to reply, "It's the middle of the day."

There was a chuckle as Will leaned in to press a line of lingering kisses along Hannibal's jaw. "Aww, don't get shy on me now," he murmured, one hand beginning to creep across the alpha's chest. He let out a small grunt that was a mixture of surprise and discontent when he was lifted clean upwards by strong arms and set back on his feet.

"I must get through the new reports before I meet with the others tomorrow morning," Hannibal said, voice mild and casually disinterested. He had come to see Will somewhat similarly to the intoxicants he'd studied in his medic training—prolonged exposure bringing about a lessening of the effects. "I will see you at dinner."

He'd just raised the scroll again when it was pushed away for the second time as Will, undeterred, slid himself up onto the small wooden table which creaked a little worryingly at the weight. It wasn't much higher than the tall stool Hannibal was sitting on, meaning that Will's spread knees fell comfortably on either side of Hannibal's hips. His collarbone was also about level with Hannibal's face, making clearly visible the dark bruise that had been sucked onto the base of his neck the previous night while the two had been engaged in a remarkably similar position. Hannibal swallowed just a little harder than usual, and didn't miss the way Will's eyes followed the bob of his throat.

"You'll have more time this afternoon," Will said in a tone that was close to a croon, something smirk-like twisting his lips as he ran a questing hand down Hannibal's chest once more. He only made it halfway before he was caught at the wrist and gently twisted away.

"And," came the lightly firm reply, "so do you."

Will made a sound in the back of his throat, leaning in and hovering his hands a little lower. "I know you've been working very hard already," he continued softly, switching tactics. He was close enough that Hannibal could feel the warm caress of his breath. "You do deserve breaks for yourself, you know. You are a very good chief."

Hannibal raised a sardonic eyebrow, ignoring the fingers creeping under the hem of his tunic. "That's not going to work again."

There was a chuckle. "Sure about that?" Will whispered as he closed the distance between their lips, voice dropping low and very much like it was when he was rapt in pleasure.

Hannibal turned away before the kiss could land, expression beginning to take on a tinge of exasperation. He opened his mouth for another reprimand, only to cut off in a sharp inhale that was almost a hiss.

Because the fingers resting gently on his sides had abruptly curled to scratch across his skin, just hard enough to leave those tantalisingly lines of raised bumps to mark their trail. And of course his mate had gotten into a habit of raking his nails down Hannibal's back to urge him on while they were locked together, and now just widened his grin as Hannibal's pupils flared at the sudden rush of sensory recall. The thought seemed somewhat distant as it noted that perhaps, after all, this particular intoxicant was not so easily thrown.

Will was laughing as he was thrown down onto the mattress.

 

* * *

 

Afterwards, Hannibal lay back with the sweat pleasantly cooling on his skin, and found himself resisting the childish urge to prod at the puddle of satisfied omega on his chest. A light fingertip traced swirling patterns in the wiry hair across his pectorals as their heartbeats slowly returned to normal, something about the motion feeling close to comforting. There was silence for several minutes before Will idly asked, "What was all that written on?"

"Hmm?"

He hummed a little. "The scroll you were reading. What was it made of? I've never seen a scroll like that before."

"Oh." Hannibal grunted then cleared his slightly hoarse throat. "That would be animal skin, whatever animal we can get our hands on at the time. We write by scouring the letters with a sharp-pointed knife."

"And what happens after it is read?"

"What do you mean? Nothing happens. If the scroll is no longer needed, it is disposed of."

"Huh." Will's fingers left off the swirling and began a thoughtful tapping motion instead. "How very wasteful. My people write on thick bark sheets with sticks dipped in berry juice, and after one message is written it can be erased by shaving off the top layer. Of course the sheets eventually grow too thin to continue shaving, but many usages are made of each until then. I suppose you do not have such easy access to whole bark, but surely a better method could be devised?"

Hannibal made a non-committal sound in his throat. "Possibly, perhaps. But we do not write very much. Our method now is sufficient for our needs."

"I—I see." Will seemed a little taken aback at the dismissal, but only a took a moment before pressing on, "and what was written on them, anyway?"

Hannibal let out a small sigh at the continued questioning, only really paying attention with half a mind as he let himself enjoy the light aftershocks of pleasure that were still tingling down his body. "Just some reading for me."

Will huffed, amusement in his exhale, apparently taking the statement as a joke. "I can read, you know, Hannibal. What 'reading', then?," he articulated with humoured sarcasm.

"Nothing you need to worry about. Just some exploration."

"Exploration where? And what for?"

"Places. Around." He gave a small flourish with the hand that was resting on Will's waist, and thought he felt an eye-roll in the flutter of lashes against his collarbone.

"Seriously." Will shifted to raise his head. "I worked a little on my father's patrols when I was younger, on mapping and on logistics of the parties. Maybe I can help? It's about time I found something proper to do."

Hannibal's eyebrows twitched upwards a little. "I thought you'd been enjoying yourself relaxing here?"

"Walks around the camp are lovely enough and it's been interesting seeing the different things you do—I spent a very pleasant afternoon with the omegas at the clothweaving hut yesterday and Bryan down at the forge was nice enough to show me how you make your tools and weapons his morning—but, well," Will sighed, tilting his head to prop his chin up on Hannibal's shoulder, "I could never really relax for too long without actually doing things myself. I'm starting to feel a bit stagnant."

Hannibal tightened his arm around Will's naked hip, a small fond smile dancing over his lips. "Perhaps you could ask the clothweavers to teach you to work with them? At any rate, you don't have to concern yourself with my convolutions."

"Excuse me?" Will's hand stilled its motions on Hannibal's chest, steel beginning to creep into his tone. "The clothweavers?" he repeated, voice almost incredulous. "Convolutions? Is that really how you think of it?"

"I do not really expect you to—"

Will cut the rest of the sentence off with a harsh scoff. "Oh, you don't _expect_ me. Is that so?" He raised his head higher, locking their gazes. "Is this because I'm an omega," he bit out, "or just because I'm your omega? Do I have to remind you that I was my father's best advisor?"

"Yes, well," Hannibal took a deep breath, holding contact between their eyes for only a little while before letting his drift listlessly away, "you may have had a few creative ingredients to add to that old pot of blandness, but as you yourself have stated I've lead my people very adequately for all these years. Alone."

Will's eyes narrowed. "I'll let you think about what you just said for a moment," he said, words soft and something close to dangerous, "and give you a chance to amend it."

Hannibal paused, taking a moment to swallow before he exhaled in slight huff and conceded, "Very well, I do apologise for my assessment of your father. He is a good man, and an impressive one too I must admit, but he does have a rather rigid and somewhat narrow way of thinking. As unfortunate as it is, it is true."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because in a second Will had pushed off and away from his embrace. "A little narrow, yes," he shot back, low and heavy. "He was not the first heir to the chiefhood, and the hardships of the droughts in his youth meant he spent much of his time labouring instead of receiving the entirety of his education. But rigid, no, because that is why he sees the benefits of seeking the advice of others, and _listens_ to them."

Then he was sitting up, and then standing and turning away. Hannibal sat up too, a frown beginning to curl his brow at the abruptness of the words that had just passed. Will took a step and seemed to pause as if considering a sudden notion, before he snapped free and bent down to gather up his clothes. His face was composed when he stood to look again at Hannibal, and as was his voice when he spoke. "I am," he said matter-of-factly, almost as if speaking down to a child, "your mate. Your partner in all things. Though, I suppose, until you deign to actually make that true, we may as well be partners in no things." And with that he pulled on his trousers and tunic in casual, prompt movements.

It took Hannibal a few seconds for the meaning of those last words to sink in. "Wait, Will, what—"

"I'll see you at dinner," Will broke in, stretching his mouth in a smile that showed far too many teeth, before swinging around on his heel and strolling out of the hut without a backwards glance.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was the same affair that it always was, the majority of the tribe gathered in the centre minus the on duty guards and, of course, the rotating serving crew. They were large enough a people to form many rows around the bonfire at the heart of the clearing that was left by the hut formations, from the elderly placed closest to the heat back to the children kept furthest away from danger and temptation. They ate off their laps seated on various arrangement of rocks and logs, with the chief the only one raised up on an actual stool. This prerogative should now also have been extended to the chief-mate, but Will preferred instead to eat with his new friends, moving around between different clusters each night. Hannibal could glimpse him now on the other side of the fire beside Jimmy and Bryan, the two beta primary blacksmiths. He was chatting amiably, face lit up by the jumping flickers of orange light that Hannibal himself following with his gaze.

He'd managed to get through the majority of the reports that afternoon despite the disturbance, and despite a creeping perturbment that had scratched at the film behind his eyes without quite taking exact form. There were a few more that had been left unrolled by the dinner summons, however, and it was for those that Hannibal ate quickly and silently except for a few exchanged pleasantries. He excused himself barely half-way through the meal, nodding a quick smile at the serving girl taking his empty bowl before heading back to his hut.

Will had still not returned by the time he finally finished up and began unhurriedly preparing for bed. With a brief fond thought for how easily the omega had found agreeable company, Hannibal extinguished the lamp that hung by the door and paused for the few moments his eyes needed to adjust, listening to the continuing but gradually reducing sounds of revelry outside. The chief's tent was located right by the camp's centre clearing and so the fine cracks around the edges of the door could just be discerned in the dimness, letting in a little of the dying fire's last glows. Hannibal made his way around easily with his well-honed senses, even though his precise memory of the layout of his own living space had been left somewhat unreliable as of late by the addition of another occupant.

The coverings of the bed still held a lingering sweetly-spicy waft from the afternoon distraction as Hannibal lay himself down, letting his eyelids slip downwards and breathing in deeply. Barely a few minutes had passed by when he heard the scrape of the door, then the quiet falls of feet moving closer. The rustle of fabric accompanied presumably Will's undressing, and moments later the blanket was lifted as a lithe warm body slid up against him. Hannibal instinctively shifted to curl an arm around Will's waist.

"Have a good evening?"

"Mmhmm. Did I wake you?"

"No."

"That's good." Hannibal could feel a warm flush on Will's cheek where it lay against his arm, no doubt from the after-dinner round of wine that the omega had rather taken to. He began to leave a lazy line of upwards-moving kisses which Hannibal turned his head to receive gladly when they reached his lips, their previous dispute apparently, thankfully, forgotten. Their tongues tangled lazily together as the tendrils of excitement slowly built, the spreading tingle originating from the contact between their bare skin which signalled that things were beginning to grow more heated.

Then Will pulled back, abruptly enough that Hannibal finally opened his eyes to make out the shadowy outline of his profile. "Well, goodnight," he said after a moment, pecking a last brief kiss on the side of Hannibal's mouth before tucking himself against his side and falling still.

It was little more time before Hannibal closed his eyes once more in another attempt at sleep. He drifted off with something decidedly prickly budding in the pit of his stomach.

 

* * *

 

Said something undeniably deepened when Will woke him the next morning with a spot of groping that was cut off as promptly as the previous night's had been, despite there being plenty of usually well-used time before breakfast. They parted ways when Hannibal headed to his meeting, during which he chided himself mentally several times for letting his thoughts wander to less than business matters. The affairs he'd had in the past were casual, temporary things, it seemed he was unused to anything with longer lasting implications and the distractions those could bring.

The council he kept was small, consisting of only three others whom he'd appointed upon his ascension as chief and who had done their duties faithfully and admirably over the past years. Though he was the highest commander of his warriors, the more routine aspects such as training and equipment supply were taken care of by his head guard Jack, another alpha with the kind of ruthless efficiency that Hannibal could respect. External affairs with other tribes he gladly passed on to his primary ambassador Bedelia, though given his current rather complicated circumstance with a certain other chief's rather more complicated son he had been thinking that he perhaps should have kept himself a little more up to date on such things. The sole beta among them was Alana, a strewed woman who headed the domestic side, managing resource logistics, and social concerns. The four of them also met together on larger matters like justice, security threats, and right now the advancement of the tribe.

They ended up adjourning for lunch without reaching anything major, passing possibilities back and forth and each noting some input for later consideration. Will wasn't present, one of the servers mentioning that he'd asked some hours earlier for his lunch to be packed as a picnic. It wasn't the first time he'd requested such, and Hannibal knew that he enjoyed sometime bouts of solitude. Will could do very well with others, bouncing to and fro in conversation almost as if reflecting back all the words and nuances tossed at him, but there were times after they retreated back alone when Hannibal realised he'd be more appreciated for his just physical presence. Even in the short time they'd been acquainted—very thoroughly acquainted for that matter—Hannibal had found something intriguing about the omega, seemingly carefree but acutely discerning and more sensitive than he commonly let on, maybe even enthralling.

The afternoon was spent in the exercise clearing, where Hannibal found a somewhat surprising amount of tension that needed to be worked off. The evening saw the return of a hunting party which he would have headed himself if it hadn't been for his morning meeting, and Hannibal joined in to help prepare the several fresh deer that had been brought back. He enjoyed a large mug of wine when the meat was done and the servers took over, requested another once everyone had gathered and the meal actually began, and left himself cushioned on a pleasant tingle of lightness.

Will was back for dinner, starting off in the centre of a group of guards but moving half-way to the spot beside Hannibal. By the end of the meal Hannibal was off his stool and seated among the others on a thick log with an am looped comfortably around his mate, who was leaning heavily against his side as they both chuckled at some amusing anecdote or other. It was about then that he realised the wine may have been a mistake, when the previous tingle progressed into the kind of buzz that usually made him a little loose with his levity, and more than a little eager to get on to things more private at least when it was on offer.

And that, exactly, was the crux of the problem. Hannibal was far from a hedonist, certainly not like some other idiotic chiefs he knew who wallowed in food, drink, and dangerous indiscretions. He'd lived in frugality when it was needed, honed his self-restraint to a fine solidity, and maintained in making decisions with his head. But when the good times did come, he'd always freed himself to take full advantage. He was known for throwing decadent feasts when availability allowed and greatly appreciating the finest, hardest and longest to brew wines. Lovers when they taken, albeit sometimes far between, were indulged in wholly for as long as decency permitted.

Yet, above still those appetites, he had his pride to hold together. Sexual frustration wasn't new, even if this kind now was unfamiliar, with another edge to it that stemmed not from mere inactivity but from disallowance. Even if the one thing he did have trouble with, really, was being denied what was in his reach.

When he and Will finally left the others, falling onto their bed in a tangle of limps and long, fervent kisses that ended with Will bidding a light goodnight and falling asleep still sprawled naked across his chest, Hannibal felt his self-restraint crack inexorably further towards fracturing.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, Hannibal felt almost ready to rip apart the walls of his own hut.

Four days was hardly a long period of abstinence, that is unless you took into account that it was four days of waking wrapped around his tantalising mate, of lingering fondles during the day and nights pressed skin to skin and hip to hip. He'd also been unable to make much more headway into the exploration reports, given how every time he sat down to focus he found his mind drifting to that first afternoon and the feel of Will lounged on his lap. Most of his time had been spent in the exercise clearing, training alone on the whole since the others seemed to be a little too intimidated to spar against his sudden keen intent. Now, though, he was on a long meandering stroll through the camp, trying to see if watching over the every-day bustle might calm his own restlessness.

He was making his way across the main clearing when he heard something crunch under his heel and realised he'd stepped down on the edge of the fire-pile. He absent-mindedly licked a finger to wet it and crouched, reaching down to a smear of black on his deer-skin boot that had been made by a protruding piece of old burnt wood, rubbing a few times over to clear off the colour. He straightened again after and took another step forward, then paused.

A second passed, then he turned back and crouched down for the second time. Gently, he picked up a few of the sturdier pieces of blackened wood, held them in his palm for several moments in thought, then smiled.

 

* * *

By the time Will dropped back into the hut that afternoon, Hannibal was sitting at the table before his reports with one of the lumpy dark sticks in his hand.

"What are you doing?"

Hannibal looked up, face lifting in greeting. "Just making some notes. Look." He held out the stick towards Will. "It's charcoal. I just thought of it earlier. It writes very easily."

Will moved closer, to see Hannibal put the charcoal back to the scroll and draw a thin line of black down one side. Then he put it down and picked up a damn cloth that he'd laid out on the table, pressing a corner down over the line and wiping a few times firmly to rub it clean once more.

"It erases," Hannibal continued, "to be used again. Like you said." He dropped the cloth to the table-top and looked up to see Will smiling softly.

"That's quite clever," came the reply.

Hannibal smiled back, holding the gaze, and after a break of silence dropped his head again and sighed. He lifted his hands to pick up the flattened scrolls, re-arranging them back into order then setting down the first face-up. "What I said before," he began just a little hesitantly, "I have indeed lead alone all these years. I was given the chiefhood unexpectedly when my uncle died without an heir, of a fast-acting illness that killed him before they knew he was sick. It wasn't something I'd expected to have, and it changed things very much for me. The name of chief, the new trust I was given, the responsibilities I have and the decisions I must make, those were the things I latched onto. The things I eventually came to define myself by, singularly." There was a pause in which he took a breath, just barely audible. "I suppose," he admittedly finally, "largely, it was just a matter of pride."

When he looked up once more to meet Will's gaze the smile was gone, but the expression was still soft and now with something else less easily to read. Slowly, Hannibal reached over to pull out the second stool as he began again, "It is not yet time to move on so there is no rush to decide in which direction we will go next, but nevertheless I have found it useful to gain an image of possible camp-sites over time. These are the latest messages sent back from the exploration patrols, just a basic canvas of the surrounding areas to start with, describing resources in each area, proximity to neighbouring tribes, and..."

The smile was back, then, as Will took his seat beside him.

 

* * *

 

Much later that night, it was Will who leaned over to blow out the hastily lit and now almost burned-down bedside candle before stretching out against the puddle of alpha beneath him. Neither had enough mind to care about the smudges of black they'd left on the other's skin, a smattering of littered markings which mirrored the pile of reports on the table that were now added to in two distinctly different, yet complementary, hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will's got his alpha nicely trained up now :-) Also, told you they'd end up actually doing stuff. And with more stuff to come.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap I'm so sorry for the long wait. This chapter didn't have anything particularly difficult about it was just so damn slow for some reason. Also I got distracted by another plotbunny snapping at my ankles, which was pretty cool, and went to Italy. That was also pretty cool.
> 
> Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy the next chapter of the story now honourarily titled, 'In Which Entity Discovers She Is A Less Reliable WIP Writer Than She'd Expected.'

It took Will longer than Hannibal would have expected to ask, dropping the question idly while the omega was seated at their table one afternoon with a letter that had recently come in from a tribe by the river to request an audience. Hannibal himself was sitting cross-legged on the bed repairing a worn join in one of his boots when his concentration was interrupted by, "Do you people really eat prisoners?"

Hannibal coughed twice, and set the boot down. "You've heard about that, then?" he replied mildly.

"Oh, please."

Intent eyes seemed to roll without ever leaving the scroll before them, making Hannibal frown a little and ask, "Is there something wrong with that letter?"

Will sighed, flicking his gaze over it a second more before placing it back down on the table and standing. "I don't know," he said as he made his way over to the bed. "I feel that there's something not quite right about it, but I can't quite say what."

Hannibal uncrossed his legs as Will sat down beside him, leaning gently against the alpha's side to encourage him to wrap an arm around his waist. He gave a pleased little exhale when Hannibal complied. "But I suppose we'd better accept," he continued, "there's no real reason not to. Just a little itch of mine. Anyway." He turned his head to prop his chin up on Hannibal's shoulder. "Don't stall now. You know everyone knows the stories. You probably make sure they do, so they can all be properly afraid of you, don't you?"

Hannibal gave a slight tilt of his head. He had to admit, there were times he found Will's judgement to be almost preternaturally trustworthy. "Well," he said after a moment's pause, "does it work?"

Will snorted. "One time when I was young, I sneaked out of our camp to try to play with the animals in the woods. When I finally came back, my father told me not to do that again or the plainsmen might find me and cook me for dinner. Does that answer your question?"

Hannibal let a small smile curl his lips. "Well, then, Will, you must allow us to keep some mystery in our ways."

He received a prod to the side for that, a small chuckle which melted back into something just a little more serious. "Is it true, really?" Will said after a pause, slightly softer. "Have you eaten someone?"

Hannibal's own face slipped free of his amusement, though not falling entirely grim. It was merely pensive for a moment, and just a might hesitant. "Yes," he replied finally. "I have."

Will took that in for a second, eyes flickering downwards. Then he abruptly asked, "What was it like?"

"You're not shocked?"

A shrug. "I've grown up with worse stories. You know they say that it gets so cold on the mountains that the tribes there have to use human skin on their clothes?"

Hannibal frowned again, turning to look down over Will's upturned face. "I've visited those tribes, I am not sure that one is true."

"Hmmm. But your one is?"

"To an extent." Hannibal could feel the hard press of Will's chin over the bone of his shoulder, expectant, as he looked away again. "It is a ritual," he said after a pause. "A sacrifice, the life force to the spirits and the mortal shell to the men."

And he could feel Will's gaze too, searching, delving. Taking his words and deciphering. "Prisoners of war," the omega affirmed after several seconds. "Enemies, but equals to be respected."

A nod, slow but sharp. "Thus it has been some time. Codebreakers among our own people do not deserve the honour, and we have not been at war for many years."

"Hmm." Will allowed a smile to sneak its way back onto his lips, lightening the exchange again a little. "Since the beginning of your chiefhood, no?" And there his expression took on a more playful tinge. "Here I'd readied myself for a lifetime of being ravished by a savage, and instead ended up with a peacebringer."

Hannibal's brows twitched into a frown, a small crease appearing between them as he debated internally on whether he'd just been commended or insulted. Much to his mate's amusement, no doubt. "But peace is the merely the end that comes naturally," he said, finally, crisply.

"Really. Yet they all say that you plainsmen would draw sword on any afternoon of boredom."

"To train, to hone ourselves. I watched as my uncle pushed our people's lives and reserves into unnecessary conflicts, and made my decision to conserve. We shall prepare for when our skills are needed, and build our strength for then."

"Mm, I'm sure." Will lay his head back down on Hannibal's shoulder, so that his curls tickled the side of Hannibal's neck. They smelled clean, a combination of the fine salt of the bathing stream and his own spicy allure. "Well," he continued, "what have you heard, then?"

"Heard?"

"About us woodsmen? Anything good?" His voice pause, then lowered. "Anything bad?"

Hannibal shrugged the shoulder that wasn't covered by lounging omega. "I have never listened much to rumours myself," he said simply.

"Never?"

"No."

"None at all?"

"Not that I have found worthy of remembrance."

"Well then." Will sighed and shifted his hips, pressing closer. "Wasn't that awfully unprepared of you? We might not have been that different. For all you know, we could have been like the green-crawlers."

Hannibal swivelled his head, knocking his chin and ending with his nose mostly buried in soft strands of tousled hair. "The what?"

"A type of bug," Will said, sweetly innocent, before going on, "They eat each other after mating." And there was definitely something lacing in his tone now, heavy and very familiar. "But you know, it's always the breeders who eat the sires."

Hannibal smiled just a little. "Really?" he replied, and let his Western accent thicken his words very deliberately. "Yet the sires continue to take their chances all the same?"

Will chuckled, soft and low, as the hand around his waist slid up higher, under his tunic and against his bare side. "It would seem so."

  
* * *

  
The river tribe was invited in four days time, and arrived in three. The result was an impromptu reception ceremony that had their hosts looking, no doubt as intended, like a band of scrabbling children in front of the perfectly refined ambassadorial party. The entire ordeal displeased Hannibal greatly, though Will on the other hand only snickered at the dismay on the alpha's face before hurrying off to direct the preparation of the guest huts.

"You're only annoyed because it's exactly something you'd do."

Hannibal had refused to acknowledge that with a response.

The other chief was a serenely imposing figure, a tall alpha woman who looked maybe a few years older than Hannibal. She lead her party on a impressive white stallion, and dismounted in a single smooth motion to stand almost level with him. Her party followed suit behind, two betas from what appeared to be her guards immediately moving to flank her.

"Chief Hannibal."

"Chief Rache."

Hannibal motioned over one of his horsekeepers, and Rache handed over her reins to the girl without looking at her. "I am glad to finally meet you."

"Likewise. Although, I must admit that I had not known your name until I received your latest greeting?"

She inhaled a breath through her nose, almost like a sniff. "Indeed, I have only recently taken the chiefhood on passing of my brother."

Hannibal dropped his eyes, and dipped his head. "I am sorry for your loss."

"Hmm." Another sniffing breath, there. "Thank you, but sympathy is not my object here. He was not the most _attentive_ chief, you could say. I am trying now to make the progress he failed to, and for us I have high hopes of moving beyond our previous conflict."

Hannibal raised his chin again and had to think for a moment to recall the reason for her choice of expression. It took a reach back, eventually, to the early days of his own chiefhood. "I am certain we will, and I will assure you now that your only conflict was with my uncle. In fact it was one of my first missives—"

"To release us from the might of your warriors, yes," she interrupted, voice light but with a hint of an edge that drew the barest incline of Hannibal's head. "And so I do hope that we can begin to build our relations beyond your whim of pity."

She held her head high, but with something beyond the simple pride that Hannibal wouldn't have faulted her for. There was also a distinct air of haughtiness about her that didn't quite sit right with the other chief, and so Hannibal held back on his slightly affronted and somewhat quizzical reply. Instead he pressed his lips together and gave merely a single acquiescing nod. "Well then," he said curtly after a short pause, tone utterly diplomatic. "I am very glad to welcome you, and your party."

She curled her lips upwards, though not quite high enough to reach her eyes. "Thank you," she replied sweetly, and then her mouth stretched wider. "Allow us to introduce ourselves, then. Chief Hannibal, this is my daughter, Leika."

Hannibal blinked as the stiffly standing betas to her sides parted and a girl stepped shyly forward. She was dressed in a long tunic that couldn't have been comfortable to ride in though fell admittedly quite flatteringly around her body, which in turn looked only barely of maturity. An omega. It hardly took someone of Hannibal's intellect to see the implications.

"We offer you both our warmest greeting."

Several head turned in unison at the interjection. Behind them, Will stepped out from the crowd to gracefully make his way to Hannibal's side.

"Excuse my lateness," he continued genially, "I was just handling the last of our arrangements for you."

He had changed at some point into the traditional robe he'd brought with him, the one etched with the leaf-based design of his own tribal family, and which undoubtedly brought to Hannibal's mind memories of a certain other galling surprise. He was also wearing his most charming smile, the one that he used whenever he wanted something from Hannibal that he knew he'd get, as he watched Rache's eyes dart between them and invariably make the connection.

"Ah," Hannibal said, own smile turning more genuine. "Yes, and allow me also to introduce my mate. This is Will, son of Chief Arzah of the eastern forest peoples."

For a second the grand alpha woman didn't move, then she gave a nod of greeting that looked more like a jerk. "I had not heard," she said, words a little clipped, "that you had taken a mate."

Hannibal made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat. "Indeed it seems that communication between our tribes has not been at its most conducive. Perhaps that is something we can begin to remedy now?"

"Perhaps," the other chief echoed, gaze hardening as it locked on Will. Beside her, the young omega girl was shifting from foot to foot, confusion blooming across her face, and Hannibal found himself giving her a small smile. Beside him, though, he could see that Will had not failed to notice.

  
* * *

  
Dinner was a decidedly awkward function, caught somewhere in the uncertain middle between posturing and diplomacy. The other tribe's guards had melded well with the crowd, quickly falling into groups of chatter and tale-sharing, but the chief herself and her taciturn daughter had not quite done so much. Hannibal seated the two of them beside him, with Will joining them on his other side though staying mostly quiet throughout. Exchanges between the four were minimal beyond an agreement to keep the official talk out of the meal and confined to the discussions the following day. After the barest exchange of pleasantries Hannibal found himself in the midst of a curiously calculated silence, as well as the wandering intensity of his mate's astute gaze.

Will was the first to excuse himself, sidling primly back to their hut instead of joining the revelries as was his usual wont. If Hannibal hadn't come to know him so well, he might have thought it an attempt to make a good impression—though it was either that or an invitation. The foreign chief stood shortly after, and Hannibal complied graciously when she suggested not-at-all lightly that he ought to show them personally to their lodgings. She took the first, of course, leaving Hannibal to take the girl alone to the second.

She was really rather pretty, Hannibal mused as Leika smiled tentatively up at him, but what came inevitably stronger to mind was the conversation she must have had with her sire before all of this. The emotion which that thought drew was unfortunately closer to bemused condolence than desire, though still he did allow his eyes to run from the fullness of her breast to the delicate curve of her hips. If she'd been a might more lively, and her lingering goodnight a touch less rehearsed, he may have been tempted.

The lamp was still lit when Hannibal returned to his own hut, and he nudged open the door to reveal Will not in bed but seated at the table before a half-full mug of wine. He'd already shed the robe and had only a loose white wrap draped over his shoulders. In his hands was one from a set of arrows that he'd been making up for the blacksmiths, the rest lying on the floor by his feet. Nimble fingers tied off the feathered fletching in a few gentle, precise tugs before moving to affix the point, finishing up the last of them so it seemed. Hannibal stopped in the doorway for a moment to take a little time just to admire those agile movements, and Will looked up after a few seconds without putting down his work.

"Would you like a drink?"

Hannibal stepped forward. Will wasn't quite smiling, the flickering light of the lamp glinting off the pitch-black and deadly-sharp arrowhead that he held in one firm grasp. He was also obviously, invitingly bare under the wistfully-draped fabric.

"That wasn't precisely what I had in mind."

He did smile a little then, placing the arrow down on the tabletop and standing. "So, what do you think of them?" he asked, tone somehow managing to be both pointed and casual.

Hannibal turned his words over in his mouth before replying just, "I am not entirely looking forward to the discussions tomorrow."

Will chuckled softly in agreement, moving closer and reaching for the ties of Hannibal's formal tunic. The knots were undone with the same brisk twists of his fingers.

"I wonder," Hannibal continued, half to himself, "if Chief Rache intends to bring her daughter to the meeting?"

"Really. Must you wonder very hard?"

"No, I suppose you're right. Just pretty a bargaining chip, then?"

Will's eyes narrowed, just the slightest bit, at that description. He undid the last tie and slid the shirt slowly off Hannibal's shoulders, letting it fall to the floor despite the alpha's recurring admonishments. Hannibal twitched his eyebrows upwards, holding their gazes unmoving for a few moments before reaching in turn to slip off Will's wrap and drape it over the vacated stool.

Will spoke again as Hannibal encouraged him back to the bed, buckling his knees easily when they hit the side of the mattress and moving his hands lower to the cord of Hannibal's trousers. "I don't suppose she'll be giving up, now?" His tone still held that weighty lightness. "Or will she be assuming that you're one of those alphas who believes that the mating promises apply to omegas only?"

Hannibal looked down, and then he thought.

He'd never had a lover before like Will, who'd slipped into his life like a knife through the smallest fault of a shield and who'd shared his bed these last few months in a storm of fevered desire and subtle defiance. He'd never quite thought he'd have a mate like him either, and he couldn't help but find him—in a word—a curiosity. There was a loaded pause before he asked slowly, part question and part challenge, "What would you do if I took a lover?"

A second later he hissed as the fingers around his nether regions tightened abruptly, just for a moment. Will cocked his head, expression serenely open. His voice was quiet but cutting, pricked with the ice-coolness of threat though not one directed at his interlocutor, as he replied only, "What would you do if _I_ did?"

That elusive gift of his was to see, not show, yet suddenly Hannibal could see so very clearly through that thin guileless mask to the message that hovered in those clear blue eyes.

_I caught you, and I'm holding on._

  
* * *

  
The discussions turned out, in fact, to not be quite as painful as Hannibal had feared. But neither were they particularly fruitful.

To her credit, Rache almost entirely managed to hide her surprise at seeing Will take the spot of prominence on Hannibal's right, her own omega companion decidedly not present. She was amiable through every debate and cordial in each demand and offer, and yet Hannibal found them perhaps to be the oddest talks he had conducted.

She emphasised repeatedly that she was dedicated to improving interaction between their peoples, though she never seemed to get around to suggesting an exact method. She was receptive to all possibilities of trade and exchange, but never entirely agreed to a course of action. And she insisted that she planned to prove the worthiness of respect of her own tribe in their eyes, without quite specifying what she actually planned to do about it.

What transpired in the end was a zealous discourse that left all perfunctorily satisfied with their progress, until Hannibal thought back at its conclusion to realise just how little they'd actually achieved. And as a testament to the other chief's skill with speech, it had genuinely come as a surprise. Will also seemed to be less than impressed, though, judging by the quiet puzzlement in his expression.

Dinner by contrast, at least, was distinctly more lively. A small group from the foreign guards offered to provide some entertainment during the meal, which turned out to be a spirited musical performance played on a set of resonant wooden drums. It didn't take long for the crowd to be taken in by the movement of the beat, which even Hannibal found hard to not appreciate.

It was Will who commented when they finished to a wave of cheers and chanting, a smile in his voice. "Well I'm glad there's someone around here who knows how to have fun."

There were a few ooh's from the tribe, and round of chuckles from the visitors. The heavyset alpha who appeared to be the lead drummer grinned in reply and dipped his head. "But surely you don't have to look so far. Your people are also known for their song and dance, are they not? Perhaps you could show us your own fortes?"

Will's eyes flashed. The request was a bold one, doubtless, maybe even too bold. But when Will looked over to his mate a moment later, Hannibal realised that he had himself yet to see the talents that he'd learned of in their first meeting. His interest must have shown on his face enough for Will to take it as encouragement for then the omega was standing and shedding the light cloak that he'd donned in lieu of his robe that night.

It was to Hannibal that he spoke to next, down to his simple tight leggings and tunic and with something decidedly impish flickering across his features. "I suppose you big bad warriors thought dance would be all frolicking and fluttering, hmm? Maybe it's time to show you what us woodsmen can really do."

He took a step back and seemed to consider for a moment, before walking over to address the blacksmiths. The whole tribe had grown quite, listening curiously as he asked, "Would there be a chance to get that pair of long knives you just finished up?"

There was a pause as Brian leaned over to mutter a command to an assistant, who stood to run off and return promptly with the knives in question. Will thanked the boy with a small smile as he took them, settling them in his hands with a nimble flick of his wrists that drew Hannibal's gaze to a pinpointed focus.

It was an idle movement, thoughtless, but it spoke. And what it said was that this wasn't a man with a shiny toy, but man who knew exactly what to do with a blade.

"Could I have just a beat, maybe?" he said lastly to the drummers, taking a spot on the grass before the gathering. The sun was almost fully set now, moonlight mixing with the orange of the fire to shine off the twin well-polished blades. "Something rolling, not too slow."

A steady rhythm started up from the leader, simple but driving on. Will smiled his thanks again, briefly, before his expression smoothed out. His gaze flicked over one last time to meet Hannibal's then settled forward, sightless but focused with something that was already raising the hairs down Hannibal's arms. Will was still for a moment, then another, and then he moved.

He'd been right to taunt. The dance wasn't anything like Hannibal had expected, wild but tipped with deadly grace. Live, sharpened edges swiped through the night as their wielder leapt between invisible opponents, striking in the darkness like a serpent through smoke. The gleaming metal sliced, sliced, thrusted, and twirled in practised hands in a one-person battle of un-relenting precision.

The routine can't have been long but the forms lingered like they'd been cut into the very air, enchanting, mesmerising, consuming. Finally Will gave a last lunge then froze, both points high, until the drummer took his cue to die down to silence. There was a second more of gripping stillness, before the tension was broken in a chorus of shouts.

But Hannibal wasn't listening. He didn't care either that he could feel the eyes on his mate, from Rache and her wilting daughter as well as certainly more than a few of his own alphas, because Will's own were only on him. The omega was breathing hard from the exertion, almost panting, a line of sweat gleaming down the long line of his throat to his open collar. He stepped back to the edge of the circle without dropping his knives.

Almost as if in a trance, Hannibal raised a hand to run a single fingertip down the flat of one smooth blade, continuing down to the firm fingers gripping the hilt and that strong wrist. "Would it be entirely too rude," he began eventually, voice barely above a murmur but still managing to sound hoarse above the rush of blood in his ears, "if we were to retire somewhat abruptly just now?"

A smile spread itself across Will's lips, slow and full of promise as his eyed darkened in the firelight, and he still didn't drop the knives.

  
* * *

  
Hannibal woke to darkness and a curious sound, a very quiet snick like the graze of the door against the frame. He wasn't sure if that was what had woken him, as it wasn't unusual for the door to move during the night with the wind. But it was only Hannibal's finely-honed senses, trained to focus in at anything out of the ordinary, that picked up next sounds over the soft steady breathing by his ear. The barest thud of a footfall.

He felt it the second that Will woke too, tensing where he lay against Hannibal's side, bare skin on bare skin. Then a second later he was gone, the same moment that Hannibal's own instincts kicked in a jolt through his mind.

Will was on the side of the bed closest to the door, and Hannibal heard the thump as he leapt over to collide with something—someone. But there was still no light, nothing to tell Hannibal what he could do when he threw himself down over the foot of the bed, the sounds of a struggle to his side ringing thunderously through the silence of the night. There was a grunt of surprise, unfamiliar, then a hiss of displaced air that Hannibal recognised with a stab as the swing of a sword. Adrenaline leapt through this veins, burning with that familiar flare of bloodlust—but no, light first, sight first.

There was no time, no room for scrabbling for lamps or candles. He fell on his feet and lunged across the small space for the door, practically ripping it from the wall and he shoved it back and out. Silver light flooded through the frame, and he spun to see the still-dim forms of two struggling bodies and two heads which snapped up at the sudden illumination. The baser part of the alpha roared, to kill, and to protect, but even as he surged into action he was beaten to it.

The smaller of the forms recovered first, twisting around to grab the other's neck from behind. An alpha woman by the looks of it, large, and growling through her teeth as the hold around her throat tightened. Hannibal kicked out, dashing her sword from her hold, but even already it was practically thrown aside as both her hands flew to claw at Will's forearm. Then there was another growl, recognisable but lower than Hannibal had ever heard it before, close to feral, and Will snapped somehow his grip. The next second, the alpha against him went limp.

Hannibal froze, as if startled into it by the abrupt stillness. His pulse was still pounding, racing, mind taking a moment to catch up. Will held his position for a long moment before he slowly lowered their attacker to the floor. Hannibal had to swallow twice.

"Is she—"

"No." Will took a breath, long but calm. "Pressure points around the base of the skull, my father's bodyguard taught me."

Hannibal stepped closer, taking her in. She wasn't entirely familiar but he placed her vaguely among Rache's guards, one who'd he'd glimpsed on arrival but who had joined the drummers that evening. "She looks strong."

"She is, but there's more to fighting that just strength." Will voice was very clear, steady, assured. "I said I felt something off to start with, it became even more obvious during the discussions. It was obvious Chief Rache was bitter about the former chief's easy acceptance of your mercy. I knew she must have had something else planned after throwing her daughter at you didn't work at getting you under her control, but I hadn't thought she'd be mad enough to do this. You can confirm when this one wakes up."

The way he spoke was so utterly matter of fact, just another observation from that nimble mind despite the quickness of his breathing and the scratches on the low side of his right arm that were beginning to bleed sluggishly. Hannibal took another step forward, small, almost hesitant, and said in a tone that was only a little hollow, "Thank you." Because what else could he have to say.

Will looked up, finally, to meet Hannibal's eyes. He didn't speak, replying only with a curve of his lips that was almost a smile but also something else, slick as blood and keen as a tempered blade. He was still nude, pale in the moonlight, and in spite of the pressingness of it all Hannibal found his mind drawn away.

Tomorrow, there'd be questioning. There'd be retribution and promises and intimidation, but now he couldn't help but think of a promise of a different kind. One that had been spoken through soft lips into the quietness of the previous evening to settle around them like a blanket of the softest wool.

Because gods knew, he would tear apart anyone who dared touch his mate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bug Will talks about is of course the Praying Mantis, the females of which (sometimes, anyway) eat the males after mating. I'm not sure the concept of 'praying' exists in whatever language they're speaking so I figured they'd have to be called something else.
> 
> Speaking of which, as a history nerd, I feel obligated to say that I have no idea where this is actually set. I took some inspiration though from the ancient meso-American civilisations and their tribal systems (especially the Aztecs, who really did sacrifice and eat prisoners of war) but that's actually not my area of expertise at all when it comes to detail. I suppose you can say that having six genders confused the human race enough to have developed in a different progression?
> 
> Ah we're almost done. I'm going to miss this 'verse...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand here we are! Boy this chapter took a chunk longer to write than I'd expected, but in my defense it turned out pretty long too.
> 
> *sigh* Gotta admit, it's a little sad to finish off this story, it's been something special for me as a writer. It was the first WIP I started, and in some parts was more of a exploration of the character and their relationship than a fixed plot. Can I give a huge thanks to [verybadidea](http://archiveofourown.org/users/verybadidea/) and [Silverfeathered_Angel](archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfeathered_Angel/) for their feedback during the writing process and also for just listening to me rant endlessly. Like just all the time XD (but yeah specifically about this fic a lot too).

Hannibal made it on time, this time. It wasn't something he allowed much significance to be attributed to.  
  
It was only practicality, after all, leaving early in the day to take advantage of the cooler hours of the morning. The weather was beginning to warm now as they approached the changing season that would soon herald the tribes to uproot their camps and move on once again. Will had elected to take his own horse, which gave him ease to pull up alongside Hannibal with an ill-concealed quirk to his lips.  
  
"We're not riding to war, you know."  
  
Hannibal cast over his eye without turning in his seat or dropping his straight-backed mount. "The last time I came this way in good will I departed with more than a temporary surprise." His voice wasn't entirely disgruntled, though it was low.  
  
There came a small sound from the back of Will's throat which could have been something wry, though his face smoothed out as he dropped his reply in a half-casual lilt between them. "No, you came underestimating us."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
The gathering that greeted them was dignified but not grand, notably so. The way that Will's face lit as the party filtered into sight between the trees was counterpoint to the steady but lively hoofbeats beneath them, smile flooding brightly across his unguarded features. He took the lead as they approached and descended swiftly from his horse before his father, taking Hannibal by mild surprise when he gave no formal greeting of deference or respect but instead stepped promptly forward into an embrace.  
  
Hannibal's eyes met Arzah's over his mate's shoulder after several beats, holding as he dismounted several paces behind to plant both feet firmly on the leaf-strewn ground. Then other alpha gave a nod, simple, both welcome and acknowledgement. Familiar. Family.  
  
"Chief Hannibal, what a pleasure it is to welcome you again," Arzah said finally when Will had stepped back from their small murmured reunion, genuine gladness in the chief's expression through the stiff layers of ceremony. "Myself and my people are delighted to host you once more, especially for a less official stay." His tone was warm too and without smugness or mockery—which was more than could have been said for Will.  
  
Not that the omega had spoken anything out loud, but there had been a definite edge to the way he'd ridden Hannibal the night a casual, _social,_ visit had been proposed. Something familiar, too, which reached all the way back to their first acquaintance, not the guileful act but the steady ferocity that had revealed itself so intently later. One of a leader using what he had to get what he wanted.  
  
That, then, having been Hannibal, himself and his attention to the quieter peoples whom he'd dismissed in his mind so easily before he'd even come to consciously disregard them. It was one of the few times that he had broken first, months later on his back in his hut— _their_ hut, losing control as his fingers dug down into the mattress and his chest rumbled beneath Will's palms with his groans. And he'd arched up against the weight across his hips as Will ground down, slowing with the tie to a steady rocking until Hannibal gathered himself enough to reach one hand across to help him over while the other brought his mate down to a kiss of parted lips over silent murmurs. _I do find you interesting.  
_  
"Thank you, and you as well."  
  
Hannibal smiled, just a little, in reply, and moved to the side as one of the assembled men stepped forward to lead away his horse. Will took several steps backwards until he was once more by his mate's side.  
  
"I do hope there were no complications during your journey?" Arzah continued, waving them forward out of formation and towards the main camp. "After your troubles with the river peoples, I did find myself concerned."  
  
Hannibal shook his head. "No, and I doubt there will be. My guards held the whole party without struggle and the woman we caught talked quickly. She'd received the order only the previous evening with no cohesive organisation among their company, let alone any other tribes. Merely one chief's fancy, it seems, and a spontaneous one at that."  
  
"Not to mention poor," Will added as they fell into step. "To attempt an assassination in the middle of the native camp with no plan for flight? I am unsure even what she would have done had it been successful."  
  
There was a hardness in his voice there, and judging by Arzah's sideways glance it hadn't been missed by either alpha. And Hannibal was reminded again even as he'd known that it was by more than just his mercy that Chief Rache had been allowed to depart with no more than a severing of ties.  
  
Arzah halted and let one of his women lead on in his stead as their trail opened up to a wider clearing, lined on the edges with large open tents while a smattering of smaller ones peeked out from the trees further behind. Stalls, by the look of it, workshops of cooks and craftsmen which Hannibal hadn't managed to explore during his last arrival already after dusk. Nor during the subsequent days spent with a new and very willing mate whom, despite both the circumstances and the higher developed parts of his brain, the deeper, _alpha_ drive inside him hadn't quite been able to say no to.  
  
They were taken to a tent larger than the one Hannibal had first been given the last time, with room for a circular table and a couple of stools next to the wide sleeping palette. The two entered only to drop their packs, and for Will to change out of his riding clothes and into his native robe while Hannibal was content to remain in his trousers. Then the omega was ducking through the loose once more flap with a brief peck, slipping seamlessly into the lively strum of his familiar camp.  
  
Hannibal took his time, himself, to pause a moment on his way out to squat down and run a palm over the fur bed. The top layer was fine, made very well with more attention than his own people would usually give to a guest's comfort. The soft strands that curled lazily between his fingers felt as sinfully pleasurable as he remembered.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Arzah didn't invite them back to his own tent when Hannibal joined the other chief back outside a minute later, settling them rather on the edge of the clearing where a number of small logs had been arranged to form seats. It was rather pleasant, really, the trees providing a comfortable shade over them as the tribe's bustle formed the steady background behind their conversation. And when said conversation came it was easy.  
  
They spoke lightly, chief to chief but also man to man, trading comments on their different peoples without delving into matters political that would find better place in a council meet. It was a curiously new dynamic, one Hannibal had never really had a chance for before. He had those among his tribe with whom he was friendly, but still he was their chief and that was a fact that could not be forgotten. The other chiefs he'd met were equals in title but at best allies and at worst rivals, hardly friends. To reach further back he could recall several fellows he'd been closer to than others during his youth, but for quite the time following his immediate family's death he'd withdrawn himself to almost all but his aunt and uncle. And even with Will their talk was never quite free of some hidden edge of teasing, challenge, promise.  
  
Arzah, though, was something else now. And as they talked Hannibal had to admit that he had indeed been wrong in his previous assessment of the man, less strewd and tactically minded as he may be he was a fair judge of things and a level-headed thinker. It was obvious too as he spoke of his tribe that he cared, truly, and that he stood firm in his position as their leader. The kind of leader Hannibal could respect, too.  
  
What they didn't talk about, though, was Will. At least until the end. Time had passed easily in chatter that could even be called casual, then already the call for lunch was ringing around. Arzah stood and paused briefly to stretch out his legs before turning back to Hannibal.  
  
"You know," he said finally, "Will has been my only family for a long time." His voice was quieter than it had been. "I always knew I'd have to give him up someday, both as an omega and a chief's son. And I knew too that when the time came it would be a question of who was best for me, and for our tribe, not for him."  
  
His voice was calm, markedly light in a way that assured it actually wasn't. He wasn't holding eye contact, instead gazing out somewhere further through the trees. Hannibal swallowed.  
  
"And," Arzah continued, "we didn't need someone good. Just someone strong. That was all that mattered, really." And here his eyes did flick over, landing and locking directly on Hannibal's. "But now I have some hope that we found someone good to him, at least.  
  
There was a moment, silent and still between them, not chief to chief but father to spouse. Then Arzah broke it as easily as he began it, face smoothing into a small flash of a smile just before he turned to head towards the eating area. Hannibal followed without giving a reply.  
  
He didn't expect one was needed. It was not like any response to the contrary would have been accepted, after all.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
It was obvious from a look that not the whole tribe was gathered in the main clearing. Meals, it seemed, were less structured here, with many arriving to receive their portions of bread and fillings to take back to eat in their own tents or in smaller groups further from the centre. And those who did stay, including the chief, simply found a spot to recline on the grass.  
  
Arzah's attention turned away from his guest as they began to eat and so Hannibal took his food in silence, content to observe. He spotted Will with ease when the omega entered, in conversation with several other men and women. By the focus in their expressions Hannibal surmised the topic to be a specific matter rather than idle banter, perhaps updating Will on the state of things since his departure, though the exchange was not unbroken by the periodic chuckle or grin. The group situated themselves on the other side of the clearing to Hannibal, who decided to leave his mate to his catching up.  
  
Will slipped away again straight after the meal, disappearing into one of the larger tents with his father and a handful of important-looking people. A meeting, presumably, to be expected on the return of their best advisor. Left on his own, Hannibal took some time to explore.  
  
He dropped by the craftsmen first, weaving through the ringing thuds and scrapes of the weapon-makers to the curious melange of scraps and tools and odds and ends that littered the floor of the cloth and leather works. Things weren't too different from what he knew, but he noted with interest those that were moreso. Their favouring of hard stone as well as bone or horn for one, to be carved into spearheads and blades instead of the metals his own people arduously extracted during their mining expeditions, less effective but sufficient for more hunting needs than combat. And the strange but intriguing way they mixed fibres from bark and leaves together with the fur that they scraped off hides to make the sturdy fabric which formed their tents.  
  
The warmth that welcomed him too from both some more chatty and some more terse was unexpected enough to draw some surprise. It made him wonder if he was known enough for himself to be respected here, or if he'd been truly accepted in their chief's family by the people. Not that matches so obviously political such as his and Will's usually came with much notion of family, that is—Arzah was some years Hannibal's senior but not nearly close to any sort of father figure—but his and Will's mating couldn't quite have been called usual.  
  
Back from the main workshops, a few sparser groups plied their trades. A few betas, for one, were gathered around a smaller clearing shaping an assortment of animal parts, mostly antlers by the looks of it. And wood-workers could be stumbled on all through the camp, like thinly spiralling veins of the forest-men, all genders and ages carving everything from spoons to furniture. The little constructed community was scattered wider out than Hannibal had expected, weaving among the guiding trees that enclosed around its people like a lose maze.  
  
He chanced upon the children late in the afternoon, as he made his way to further edges where the tents eased away to be replaced by only the periodic practising hunter, horse trainer or herb-gatherer. Babes on their bearers' bosoms or young ones crawling around their sires' ankles were no uncommon sight, but down one skinny path and through some dangling vines Hannibal found the others. The ones too young to begin learning their skills, but old enough to have grown that insatiable streak of curiosity about everything in the world.  
  
Girls and boys, alphas and betas and omegas, chatting or playing around in small clusters under the watchful eyes of several of the un-mated omegas. Giggling at each other's banter, running in circles in whatever new game they had constructed, bouncing with all their energy in the small glade. Hannibal exchanged his nods with the adults, a few brief greetings, then found himself simply standing by to watch. It was the only group he didn't end up talking with.  
  
He often saw the children of his own tribe, of course, scuttling between huts with their minders in hot pursuit, or trying out their first practice swords in the training yard. If he thought for a little longer he could bring to mind being that scuttler himself, when his mind was simpler and everything was an adventure, bring to memory the old warmth of his mother's arms and the deep rumble of his father's voice. And if he thought for even longer than that he could recall too a shorter pair of arms, accompanied by a bright laugh, the scampering of quick feet. A smile he'd worked every day to see.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
The sun was still high when dinner was called, partly because the days were beginning to lengthen and partly because it was taken earlier here to allow for the later supper. The crowd in the centre was bigger than it had been for lunch, richer with voices and lighter with humour. It brought a different ambience, warm, hearty.  
  
Will arrived after Hannibal again, having had already concluded his meeting it seemed. He was with a dark-haired woman this time and his earlier professionalism was gone, his face open in a grin as the conversation flowed easily back-and-forth between them. An alpha.  
  
Hannibal found himself pausing at the sight of them, just a moment, then Will turned his head and caught their gazes together. In a second his expression changed, lighting up further, and he said a few words to the woman before they made their way over to where Hannibal was already seated with his bowl of meat and greens.  
  
"Good evening."  
  
Hannibal gave the greeting with a small smile at Will, then turned to nod to his companion. She was smiling too, though there was something somewhat hard about it. As there was about her gaze also, staring into Hannibal's, which he caught and turned right back. Pointed.  
  
"Hannibal, this is Beverly. We grew up together."  
  
Hannibal broke the eye contact to turn back towards Will, who was suddenly looking more than slightly amused at the little exchange between the two alphas. Hannibal schooled his features, and tried not to send him too obvious of a _look_. He left it several seconds before flicking his eyes casually to Beverly again. "I'm pleased to meet you."  
  
"Hm," she half-huffed, moving over to sit down next to Hannibal. Then she raised her eyebrows up at Will. "Bring me a bowl too?"  
  
Will just rolled his eyes and dropped himself down on Hannibal's other side, leaning to rest his head against Hannibal's shoulder. Beverly laughed.  
  
"Well at least mating hasn't softened you too much," she said, voice light with teasing as she stood up again and turned away.  
  
Hannibal looked between the two with only a dash of puzzlement. "So," Hannibal began after Beverly had moved off to join the serving line, "a childhood friend?"  
  
"Mmhmm," Will replied in a hum. "She's a few years older than me, her mother was on the council. She's my father's ambassador too, now, so you can expect to be seeing her again I imagine."  
  
"Can I, now," was the muttered response, half to himself.  
  
Beverly returned with two bowls, and passed one over to Will before sitting again. The meal was taken quietly, perfunctorily, though it wasn't too long into it that Hannibal saw Arzah stand up from halfway across the clearing. The gathering quieted around him.  
  
"We are fortunate," the chief said, voice ringing clear over the crowd, "to have our friends from the West with us tonight." He raised a hand, giving some sort of beckoning signal. "I do not mean to keep you from your food, but as it happens it is a very pleasant evening that we have too. And so, for us and our guests, let there be a show!"  
  
A wave of enthusiastic cheers and applause sounded as Arzah seated himself once more, which tapered off quickly as several men and women stepped out from between the trees carrying an assortment of musical instruments. They were dressed in shifts which hung loosely off their shoulders, close to sensual but not vulgar. As a matter of fact, they were rather similar to the ones that had somewhat scandalised Hannibal on his first visit—only somewhat since there was really quite little that could truly shock him.  
  
Will's official traditional dress was elaborate by formality, but Hannibal hadn't forgotten the scrap of a thing he'd made his first play in. The serving omegas that first night had worn the same, though Hannibal couldn't be sure how much of that had been merely for his own sake in Arzah's honey-scented trap. He had come across many working omegas in his wanderings that afternoon in light clothing for the heat, but none quite so openly revealing as he'd been on the lookout for. Until now.  
  
The musicians' outfit were fitting, though, when they began to play. The slow, passionate melody seemed to float off pipe and string and reed, intertwining lines of harmony twisting around them and among their free-flowing garb. Hannibal found himself bound by the lilting notes. There wasn't much music among his own people, but it was one foreign notion that had always held his interest, admiration. Or even his true appreciation.  
  
There was something fascinating on the physical side, for a start, that humans could produce such diverse sounds from such small and simple devices. Then more so deeper, in how far it could reach, and how it could speak. Hannibal would never consider himself a sentimental man, but music was not about emotion. Words and acts could touch if wielded right, bring beauty in their meaning, but music could be beautiful in simply what it was.  
  
This piece was a contented one instead of dramatic, phrases rising and falling as tensions and releases came in their due time. It was a style unique to what Hannibal had heard among other tribes, not one instrument triumphing while others accompanied but all of them playing together, and different strands of tone poking out at different times so that the cresting phrases were shared between them.  
  
When it all ended, the silence that it left was almost a surprise. It stretched out for several moments, startled, before the audience reacted. And then the acclaim that came was sedate, swelling in a gradual wave—not out of any lack of appreciation but merely masked by the lingering entrappings of the melodic spell.  
  
The gathering dispersed quickly after the performance ended, tribesmen and women slipping away in prompt twos and threes. Will stood and took both alphas' bowls without a word this time, despite the raised eyebrow from his old friend, and left to return them to the servers. In the thinning crowd, Beverly finally turned to address Hannibal properly.  
  
"He's doing well?"  
  
It was somehow part question, part statement, and part challenge. Hannibal idly reminded himself that of all the reasons he'd been hesitant to take a mate, a fear of threats to his person had not been one of them.  
  
"I hope so."  
  
Beverly exhaled, and leaned back. "There was quite a bit of talk when Will and I were younger, you know," she said, mostly casually, "a lot of people expecting that we'd mate. But really—" she broke off in a light snort, "I've known that boy since he was pulling my hair and grabbing my elbow trying to walk, like that was ever going to happen."  
  
Hannibal didn't answer, and the other alpha gave a small sigh before continuing.  
  
"I'm not trying to protect Will, he doesn't need it. I know he's smart enough to make his own choices and deal with the consequences, and it's not like he's ever let any alpha tell him what to do." She paused and took a breath, unhurried. "But I'm his friend. Sometimes I want to look after him anyway, just in case."  
  
They simply looked at each other after that, in silence for a few moments, and Hannibal felt his lips curl before he'd entirely finished making his mind up about this Beverly. He gave an incline of his head. "You seem like someone he'd be fortunate to have."  
  
She smiled properly this time, open, pleased, before getting to her feet and turning back to shoot Hannibal a look. "Well you don't seem too bad either."  
  
Her voice was bright with good humour, and she reached down to dust off her legs. Then she looked up again, and it changed.  
  
"You'll handle him for me, won't you?"  
  
Hannibal blinked, and blinked again, but that there was definitely a layer of suggestiveness in her tone, a wicked twist of a smirk on her lips. A moment later her eyes dropped his body in a way that gave him the sudden itch to squirm.  
  
She walked away laughing.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Hannibal had been thinking to thank Arzah for the dinner show, but the other chief had already slipped away by the time he'd gotten himself up to look around. He settled instead for making a mental blotting to extend his thanks when he saw the other chief next. Will ducked briefly back into their tent for a change of clothing and returned several minutes later in a shirt and trousers, greeting him again with a kiss.  
  
"Sorry for leaving you alone all day. You got to see the camp?"  
  
Hannibal slid an arm around Will's waist and pulled him close for a moment before relaxing. "It's nice," he said, casting a glance around the near-emptied clearing. Then, "What do they do now? It's still a time before dusk, isn't it?"  
  
Will stepped back. "Some of them go back to work, some take the time off." He turned and nodded his head to the side. "I thought we might go for a ride?"  
  
The horses were tied in a row to the trees a little way back from the clearing, grazing contently as a couple of horsemasters sat by. Hannibal watched as Will passed over the one he'd arrived on and picked another bred by the native tribe instead, and after a thought did the same. He let Will take the lead after they mounted and began to venture deeper into the forest.  
  
The sounds of the camp faded gradually through the blanket of leaves and bark, their steeds clopping steadily in sync over the soft ground. There was the odd croak of an insect or trill of a bird, but mostly the evening was still. Hannibal let the comfortable silence continue for a few minutes between them before breaking it with the question on his mind.  
  
"Those musicians," he began with just a hint of hesitation, "what they were wearing. Is that the usual here?"  
  
Will slowed and pulled his horse around so they were riding side by side, raising a brow. No doubt knowing exactly what Hannibal was remembering. "Not usual as in everyday," he replied with a tinge of amusement. "But it's our more formal wear."  
  
"For omegas too?"  
  
"Yes." Will looked away again and exhaled, expression turning somewhat pensive. "It's not about eroticism, it's about expression. They're a bit more revealing, indeed, but an omega's body isn't just for sex. We try to find beauty in things, as you know, in music and dance and in people too."  
  
A defiance edge had crept into his countenance as he spoke, and Hannibal found himself smiling. Will kept it up for a few more seconds before relaxing and letting something more playful into his tone as he went on.  
  
"Not to say, though, that they may not have other benefits too. Should one choose to take advantage of them, as I may have on our first acquaintance."  
  
Hannibal huffed, smile widening a sliver as usual at his mate's cheek, then it faded again as he thought over the day once more.  
  
"You're happy to be back."  
  
"It was very nice to see to my father again, and Beverly. And to catch up with the others."  
  
"You miss them."  
  
"Yes." A look cast sideways, long, then he smiled. "But not for long. Beverly will be along soon and we'll be visiting often, won't we?"  
  
Hannibal couldn't help but huff again, lifting a brief eyebrow at the confidence before dropping it again because, to be honest with himself, it was probably valid. He took a breath, and turned the next words over in his mouth before passing them slowly, "Do you regret it? Leaving with me?"  
  
Will took a little longer to reply this time, gaze dropping to the path in front of them. Then when he did his voice was softer. "I always knew I'd leave one day, and not because I had to. I wanted to see more, to learn more." The seriousness didn't stay for long, though, as something began to dance over his lips. "As it happens, also, you don't leave all too much to be regretted."  
  
With that the playfulness was back again, and Will nudged his horse back to the lead as he turned to look over his shoulder. "But," he continued, "there are some advantages of taking you here. I know I can beat you, for one."  
  
Hannibal frowned. "What?"  
  
Will just laughed, kicked his horse, and took off.  
  
The alpha took a split-second to react, blinking a few times at being left so suddenly before his brain snapped into place. Then he was joining, tightening his legs and rocking his heels, feeling his horse lurch under the sudden push and tearing off after his mate.  
  
The forest sped past on both sides but Hannibal wasn't watching, focus narrowing down to the second set of hoofbeats in front of him. He leant down, flattening himself again his mount's neck, feeling the wind whip past his face and raise the hair off his dampening scalp. He breathed in time with the jolting of the four feet beneath him, and the rhythm of his racing heart.  
  
He was glad, then, for having taken one of the wood-bred steeds as it wove between the trees with ease, jumping low bushes and fallen branches in small leaping arcs. But Will was right, Hannibal may be a skilled riding over open plains but he was the one with the experience here, gliding around the uneven trunks and through the twisting gaps like a snake in the grass. Hannibal was barely able to catch a glimpse of tail ahead every time he managed to gain a little that he promptly lost, a flash of hoof in tandem to the ringing laughter that wafted its way back. A tease, and a promise.  
  
Hannibal followed in a single mind of pursuit, as acute as when he stood across the sparring ground with a blade in his hand and an opponent in his scope. He didn't notice that Will was leading them around in a loop until the tents of the camp came into view once more, poking startlingly out from the backdrop. He could feel the sweat on his horse's neck underneath his throat as a growl bubbled up, as he dug his heels in harder for the final stretch.  
  
Will reared to a stop when they burst back into the centre, just for a moment to let Hannibal catch up. Then he threw another glance back before he kicked forward again that made the alpha's lip curl up in a snarl. Savage, blood running hot.  
  
The final gallop was made side-by-side.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
The horses were left back to the tenders without a second look and a minute later they were falling back into their tent already pressed together, tearing at tunic and trouser chord as they panted the same air in unison. Will let out a small grunt as he was backed unceremoniously into the edge of the table, losing his balance for a second and collapsing with a breathless laugh onto one of the stools. The fall broke them apart, and the second after that Hannibal may have said something, just possibly. A low murmur between them that could have been words.  
  
_I don't regret you either.  
  
_ Because he knew. And he'd known, and he'd known he'd known. That he would never have been satisfied with a mate who revelled him as a chief, who followed and hung on his every word. That Will had slipped in through his expectations and self-assurances, into his respect, and then more. That this, _this_ was what could truly catch him. Someone to fight. Someone to push. Someone to take.  
  
Will was smiling, close a smirk but not really, too wide for that. And he was reaching out and dragging Hannibal down for a kiss with one hand at the same time as dragged his trousers the rest of the way off, hot and open-mouthed and maybe with some words of his own.  
  
_Show me.  
  
_ Then he pushed Hannibal off from his front and leaned back, lifting an ankle to rest, slowly, over the edge of the tabletop, very deliberately spreading his legs. And Hannibal didn't need any more encouragement to slide to his knees and duck his head down to get to work.  
  
Will didn't even try to be quiet as he cried out with the onslaught. Hannibal licked into him with all the intent he'd had for their race, their _hunt,_ slipping in two curled fingers when he felt a hand move over his scalp to tighten in his hair. The scent of the omega— _his_ omega—was intoxicating this close, taste thick and heady.  
  
Hannibal had discovered with Will that he was able to chase multiple climaxes shortly after another, playing off that delicious responsiveness that followed one peak. And so he kept up even when he felt Will's thighs begin to tense under his palms, alternating between the gush of the omega's fluid and the stiffness of his erection as the cries became more desperate. Riding out the contractions around his digits and going on.  
  
He pulled back finally after he brought Will off a second time on his tongue and licked him through the last shudders. His mind was too clouded with his own arousal, too hazy for proper thought as he stood and lifted Will to press him down over the tabletop, mounting him from behind in a single motion with a low growl. He rocked his hips deep, not too fast but steady, taking his mate in smooth, plundering strokes.  
  
And Will was still gasping, keening, nails clawing down the lined wooden surface by his cheek. Hannibal tolerated that for a little while before pulling him up instead to press long, open-mouthed kisses again his neck. Will twisted his neck to meet them, nipping at the alpha's mouth without any proper control in between breaths of panting moans.  
  
Then suddenly it wasn't enough, and Hannibal had to see his face properly. He pulled out again without warning, swallowing Will's sound of surprise before raising him up and flipping him to lie on his back on the table, legs strewn apart. And he was plunging back in before Will could fully register the change in position, grunting his own approval of his mate's clenching, still exquisitely responsive body.  
  
The table was shifting under them, pounding dully against the soft ground. It was closer this way, face to face, watching the pleasure spread across Will's face as their movements thudded through the small space. Hannibal let his hands slide down to Will's thighs, holding them wide open before him because oh, he could pass some nice nights with his mate, sweet nights, but then there were nights like this when he all he wanted was to lose himself in his instincts and _take_.  
  
Only when he felt the telling tightening in his stomach did Hannibal pause, lifting Will again with ease to finally carry him over to the sleeping palette, laying the omega down on the furs like he'd done that very first time. And there he entered him again for just that last push, the final crack to shatter the razor-fine fissures of ecstasy spiralling between them, shared shouts ringing out in a single voice. Letting go.  
  
The silence of the tie in the aftermath was warm and familiar as Hannibal came back to fully awareness, slumped comfortably over Will's limp body. He didn't try to move, letting himself recover bonelessly as they waited the time to pass, allowing Will adjust his legs just the little to settle comfortably under the weight. The omega's hands were soft over Hannibal's bare skin.  
  
He pulled out eventually when he could to roll over to his side, keeping Will a solid presence against his chest. Will turned his head to face him lazily, eyes half-lidded  
  
"My father managed to avoid being smug today. I expect you know that I may not have the same control, especially when I truly have something to be smug about."  
  
Hannibal frowned a little at the mention of Will's father, only to smooth into a small rumble of a chuckle. "He is a good man. And not a stupid one."  
  
Will raised his arms above his head, stretching comfortably like a large feline as the mood settled back to casual. "I'm glad you're getting along." He pursed a lips for a moment, hesitating, looking as close to nervous as was likely to get. "You like it, then, us?"  
  
"Hmm," Hannibal replied, "I do," and he meant it. Then also added after a pause, "Your friend, in particular, is ...something."  
  
Will laughed. "That's probably all Bev would hope for."  
  
Hannibal let himself smile, then paused as caution faltered him a little on his next words. "Is there a mother I should be worrying about too?"  
  
The laughter faded from Will's face, though not entirely into solemness. "No," he said simply. "My bearer died from infection soon after my birth."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
A half-shrug. "I never met him, so I don't really have anything to miss. My father has been all I've needed as family." He shifted over onto this side too, then, to face Hannibal. "And do you have anyone I've yet to meet?"  
  
Hannibal stilled, then shook his head. He ducked his tongue out to wet his lips before he spoke. "My parents were killed when I was a child by a raid from one of the enemies of the chief, my uncle. Them and—and my sister."  
  
Will's face drew in. "You had a sister?"  
  
"Yes." Hannibal dropped his eyes. "Younger than me by a few years. Killed with my parents when they set the camp on fire, I was the only one who got out."  
  
Will didn't reply in words, just moved a little closer to tuck his head against Hannibal's chin, pressing their chests and their heartbeats together. Hannibal took it as the comfort it was before continuing.  
  
"My uncle took me in after that, and I learned under my aunt. She was the main camp medic, and I was working to succeed her when my uncle fell ill and I was given the chiefhood. She passed on a few years ago too, mostly natural causes, and I believe I mourned her more. I don't think I ever really forgave my uncle for bringing battle to our homes." He felt his voice trailing low, uncontrolled. It had been a very long time since he'd spoken of this aloud. "My parents, they were both warriors, they knew their risks. But not Mischa."  
  
Will pressed a lingering kiss against his throat, letting Hannibal breath in his mate's soft scent. He wasn't sure when it had started to smell like comfort. Then the omega pulled back again so they were face to face.  
  
"You know," he said finally after the silence, quietly, "it's almost spring. I'll be coming into my heat soon. I'll be fertile."  
  
Hannibal moved his hand to run gently over Will's hair, and letting his thoughts turn inward in another direction. "I did always think that I'd like to have children someday. For heirs, and to have a family of my own. Though, it isn't really something I've been giving immediately attention to."  
  
Will smiled, then leaned in to kiss him again, this time on the mouth. "Well," he replied, half-whispered, "we have time."  
  
And Hannibal knew, there, that he meant it both ways. That they had time still, now, before they had to make their decision, and that they'd also have more if it after if they didn't take advantage this season. Years more.  
  
He bought Will close again, legs tangling together in tandem to their tongues. They kissed languidly, but deeply, until he let one hand begin to drift lower, exploring, and felt Will smirk against his lips.  
  
"Again, already?"  
  
Hannibal pulled back with a growing smirk of his own. "We have time, don't we?" Then he raised an eyebrow. "Unless you do, in fact, provide nightly entertainment for the guests here? Should I be expecting another visitor?"  
  
Will chuckled, low and warm. "And what would you do if we did?"  
  
"Well," Hannibal replied, sniffing pseudo-haughtily and inclining his head. "It's not entirely proper, is it?"  
  
"Oh, no. Because you were complaining so much the last time."  
  
"Well the last time—" he gently rolled Will back onto his back, trailing a line of kisses across his collarbone, "—the last time I was rather distracted. By a beautiful—" a flick of tongue across a pale throat, "—delectable—" a nip to that long line of neck, "—irresistibly alluring—" trailing fingers now to encourage that long leg around his waist, "—gift that had just happened to make its way into my tent."  
  
Hannibal settled his hips to a delighted laugh, fading as soft lips moved up over his jawline. He heard one last thing before he lost himself once more between his mate's legs, whispered just barely into his ear.  
  
"Keep that up, and you just might be getting somewhere."  
  
  
  
  
_End_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are :D Look at that, we finished them back in a tent. I actually wasn't planning on having a sex scene in the last chapter, so you can thank [Silverfeathered_Angel](archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfeathered_Angel/) for that too :P Also if anyone's interested, I wrote up a couple of stray headcanons and other ideas in this universe [here](http://tumbleweedforyou.tumblr.com/post/104974333186/1-what-is-the-best-sex-scene-youre-ever-written).
> 
> That being said, I've really grown quite fond of this universe, and there is some change that I may poooooossibly return to it. I don't really have any specific ideas at the moment but there are some things are open (like that hint in Compliments of the Chief about there being upcoming hoslities with invaders, which I decided not to pick up on in this fic in lieu of focusing on Hannibal and Will's domesticity). I suppose if anyone else has sequel suggestions then feel free to leave them here :-)
> 
> If there's any classical music fans reading this, or just fans of really random trivia, there's a little tidbit which accidentally slipped itself it. The description of the music of Will's tribe was semi-unconsciously taken from the style of Percy Grainger, whose way of passing the melody between different instrumental tone strands I really love. He's one of my favourite composers and I just couldn't help it...
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading, everyone, and supporting me through this. And an extra thank you also to the people who encouraged me in the beginning to expand my oneshot into this whole story! Commenters will be enthusiastically glomped by the power of tent sex and Will's sass, kudos-leavers will be chased around by Will's dad with the tribal equivalent of a shotgun (in the best way possible). As always, feel free to message, poke, and/or threaten to eat me over at my [tumblr](http://tumbleweedforyou.tumblr.com)!


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